


Sugar & Spice

by AndreaLyn



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: F/F, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-18
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steph's always pulling Danny's pigtails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eleven

Danny has been crying again.

She's curled up in the corner, her blonde hair in perfect pigtails with a curl at the end, and she's wearing her nicest skirt and button-down, but she's notably missing her argyle vest that she'd shown up to school with. In the corner, she's taking in deep breaths that are interrupted every so often by the wrack of a sob. Steph McGarrett has been lurking, biting her navy-blue painted nails and waiting for the teachers to look away before she can cross the yard as deftly as possible and complete her mission.

She sidles up to Danny's side and clears her throat, her cheeks flushed pink.

"What?" Danny asks, her voice subdued with misery and tears.

Steph bites her lip, smoothing a hand out over her ponytail and presenting what she's found, the folded sweatervest in her hands (that she may or may not have stolen herself when Danny wasn't looking because it's Hawaii and Steph doesn't want Danny to overheat). "I found your..." Steph trails off awkwardly. "It's okay, Danny, it's all gonna be okay," she promises, setting the sweatervest aside and instantly pushing forward to wrap her arms around the other girl, holding on tightly. "I'll make sure no one ever, ever takes your stuff," Steph insists furiously (even if she'd been the one to take it -- this time). "I'm gonna make sure no one ever makes you sad." Steph buries her nose in Danny's hair.

With several inches over the shorter girl, Steph's always able to do this.

Danny looks up at her, those pretty blue eyes shining with tears, and smacks her in the shoulder. "I know you did it, you, you..." She draws in a shaky breath, nostrils flaring with anger. "You lunkhead!"

Steph laughs, which is definitely not the reaction she was supposed to have. It makes Danny start to laugh too and Steph only hugs her tighter than before, easing away to give one of her pigtails a light tug, feeling daring as she leans in (fingers wrapped around the golden hair) and presses a chaste kiss to Danny's lips.

They both ease away and stare at the other nervously.

Danny breaks first, though. "Can you help me make sure it's clean?" she shyly asks, her cheeks a flush of pink that makes her whole face look prettier. "And then maybe we can do our homework together. We're supposed to cut out clippings from the newspaper and I had an idea to do it about the recent crime levels..."

Steph twines her fingers with Danny's and doesn't let go as they walk off for the classroom.


	2. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie. This probably isn't the last of this and there will probably be snippets throughout the universe.

It's the first day of the tenth grade and Steph is waiting exactly where Danny told her to be (along with 'Danny with a y now, Stephanie, I'm too old to be doing that cutesy shit). She's been in Jersey visiting her family all summer and Steph hasn't gotten the chance to see her. She's waiting on the school steps as people flood past her, searching the crowd for her best friend and her stick-thin, flat-chested, short, familiar body.

It's been one of the constants of their friendship. Steph shot up in height in the eighth grade and went through puberty early. She's had two boyfriends (both dumped) and still gets wolf-whistles every time she walks down the hall. This past summer, she got her first tattoo, currently hidden by the crisp white sleeve of the short-sleeved uniform.

"C'mon, Danny," Steph mutters to herself. She's holding down twice the weight of books and keeps tapping the foot of her heel, bending over to fiddle with a knee-sock.

Not only is it the first day of the tenth grade, but it's the first day of the year that Steph's decided is a moratorium on loser boyfriends. No, this year is Danny's year. Steph's gonna show her why they should be doing more than just catching movies and idly cuddling when there's nothing better to do.

Steph digs out her cell phone, dialling Danny's number and glancing up at the school. "Williams, you are so late," Steph accuses with a growl. "And if you think I'm waiting for you for more than five minutes, you're..."

"Right?" comes the reply from directly behind her.

Steph whirls in place and turns to find Danny staring back up at her, phone in hand. It's not the Danny who left in May, that's for sure. It's her best friend (the hair hasn't changed, as huge and shining and perfect as ever), but the rest has. Danny's put on about fifteen pounds and it looks like her chest came in over the summer.

And it definitely, definitely eclipses Steph's.

The wolf-whistle heading in the other direction is definitely not for Steph, not this time. Danny's kilt is pulled up and barely hides anything at all and the buttons are straining on the shirt. "Didn't have time to buy a new one," Danny says in explanation as she yanks the books from out of Steph's hands. "Hey! Babe, c'mon, can we go? I don't want to be late on day one," she says, heels tapping on pavement as she hurries away, all that hair bouncing and other things bouncing and Steph's brain cells along with it.

"I...it...what..." is all Steph manages to get out. "Danny!" she shouts after her. "Wait the fuck up, will you!"

Steph definitely is thinking about stealing a sweatervest or two this year -- especially if it gets the usual result of Danny pressed against Steph, trying to beat a confession out of her.


	3. Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph's on leave and Danny's still wearing the suits.

It’s been six years since Danny graduated from the Academy, she’s moved off the streets and out of vice and she’s made detective. “I just don’t understand why you wear these things,” Steph marvels over lunch, flipping Danny’s blue tie up in the air (and revealing the strain the button-down shirt is fighting). “And why don’t you buy shirts that fit?”

“There’s always too much fabric around the waist and not all of us were girl scouts,” Danny mutters, poking away at her food. “How long are you back for, this time?”

“Two weeks leave,” Steph replies, sprawling in her chair as she gets comfortable. Danny’s always said that she could look comfortable in a prison cell and they’re at a fancy restaurant to celebrate the fact that Danny’s made the headlines with her last bust. “Seriously, Danny,” Steph says as she folds her hands over the table and leans forward. “You know there’s gossip about you.”

“Does it go along the lines of ‘I wish I could be half as professional as she is’?” Danny snipes.

“No, it goes along the lines of ‘I’d like to tap that ass and make her scream’,” Steph growls. She may have employed some of the Navy’s resources to monitor the kind of scumbags who were saying those things, but on the other hand, she’s rip HPD of a lot of cases involving theft.

Danny’s worn the same thing since the day she made detective. Pencil skirts that hug her hips sinfully, button-downs that never quite fit, ties, and sometimes waistcoats. It’s ignited a schoolgirl kink that Steph never even knew she had.

Right now, Danny is tapping her heel anxiously against the marble floor of the restaurant. “Can we discuss something else? Can we talk about how I got word from Joe about your _antics_?”

Steph presses her head into her waiting palm. “I wish he wouldn’t talk to you…”

“Yeah, well, some of us are like daughters to him and some of us are like daughters-in-law…”

“How does that even make sense, Danny, you’re screwing half the island when I’m gone and we’re not together!”

“And he told me that you got yourself hurt three times in this last tour. Three!” Danny harps stringently in the middle of cutting her chicken. “I will fly out to whatever godforsaken desert or ocean that you’re currently serving in and I will kill you myself if I have to.” Danny goes on like this for a while – using her utensils to punctuate her points and Steph fades into a comfortable routine listening to the ups and downs of Danny’s rants.

When Danny seems to be winding down, Steph reaches over the table to slide her fingers over Danny’s hand and squeeze lightly.

“Hey, Danno,” Steph murmurs.

“What?” she grunts.

“I love you too.”

“Then don’t die, you Amazonian maniac, try that,” Danny says. “Come back to me.”

“I always do.”


	4. Thirty-One

At thirty-one, Steph’s been on several tours with the Navy and has performed a countless number of acts that she is not permitted to discuss with civilians, no matter how much they – or just specific police detectives – ask about it. She always comes back to Hawaii in her time off to catch up with her friends, her family, and to inevitably fall into bed with Danny. 

This time, Steph comes home to something that throws her world off-balance. 

She’s not an idiot. She’s well-aware that she and Danny don’t have an agreement of exclusivity. She knows that Danny spends her time with a lot of guys on the force and that she’s got a weakness for firefighters. Steph _knows_ that when she’s out there on the seven seas, Danny’s not usually lonely. 

The problem is this: every time Steph comes home, they fight about it. Steph wants more, but Danny refuses while Steph is still in the Navy. “I refuse to have a long distance relationship where I make love more to a cell phone than to you,” is Danny’s go-to argument.

It all comes home to roost when Steph flies back and Danny is at the airport waiting for her.

\-- and Danny’s _pregnant_.

* * *

“I still don’t get it,” Steph says when she’s had about ten shots of tequila – she’s drinking for two now that Danny’s out of commission. “You – when did you – how…”

There’s a wicked smirk on Danny’s face that Steph doesn’t like and she follows up her drunken babbling with a thoroughly angry glare, hoping that it’s only improved with all her time facing down terrorist threats.

“You’re always so careful,” Steph bemoans, her cheek pressed to her palm. “You’re pregnant, Danno.” She stares down at Danny’s baby bump and estimates that she must be five months along by this point. This hasn’t come up in a single phone call and while she’s aware of why Danny kept this from her, she can’t help but feel a bit bereft as a result. “Who’s the father?”

“Some detective from the mainland. He was visiting and…” she waves her hand. “Steph, I don’t care who it was. And yes, before you ask, I thought about my options. I’m thirty-one, I’m not getting any younger,” she says with a shrug. “I’ve got a decent desk job and good pay. I’m in a good place for a kid and _why do you care_ so much?”

Steph feels like pouring an eleventh shot to drown herself in feelings of misery. “It’s just…”

“Yes?”

“Well, Danno, you were…”

“I’m waiting, GI Jane,” Danny coaxes.

“I thought you’d wait for me.”

Either Danny’s been stupefied into silence or Steph’s finally passed out from the amount of alcohol running through her body. She tries to keep in shape and usually she can hold her liquor, but in combination with the shock of her pregnant best-friend (first love) and constant _someday girl_ , she feels like she’s fighting a losing battle.

Steph slumps on the table and peers balefully up at Danny. “Just promise me you’ll give me time.”

“What for?”

“So I can convince you that you’re not going to do this alone.” Steph finds some kind of determined resolve within her as she sits up and lifts her chin – it’s just a shame the rest of her is wobbling. “Not while I’m here.”

“...oh, god…”

“We’re gonna, we’re gonna get along great, Danno,” Steph slurs. “Trust me. You’ll see.”


	5. Seventeen

“So this is it, huh?” Danny asks as she watches Steph yank the cover off of this mythical, mystical, apparently magical car that she can’t shut up about. Danny doesn’t get it. She sees the Marquis that John McGarrett drove around town until the thing broke down, but Steph had lured her over here with the promise that it was amazing and incredible and Danny would never forget it.

She crosses her arms over her chest, smirking with the pleasure of watching Steph’s gaze catch on the fact that Danny’s just pushed her tits up a little higher. Steph’s been noticing that a lot lately and Danny’s been starting to get some ideas.

So sue her that Danny’s capitalized on that by wearing a severely low-cut black tank top and a short pair of khakis. It’s hot in Hawaii, especially when your blood still remembers Jersey (and yes, it counts even though Danny only ever spent two winters there). She paces around the car and looks for something that might make it so amazing, but she doesn’t see anything.

“Okay, I give,” Danny says, throwing her hands into the air. “What’s so great about this car?”

“Dad just refinished the backseat,” Steph says.

Danny looks over in time to see the deadly glint of mischief in Steph’s eyes that spells trouble for Danny. No one ever gets out alive when Steph looks like that and she knows that whatever upper hand she might’ve thought she had is suddenly gone. Danny’s mouth is a little dry and that’s when she actually pays attention and notices that Steph isn’t wearing a bra and her nails are the shortest they’ve been in weeks.

She lets out a barely controlled squeaking noise, but that’s quickly subdued when Steph all but pushes her into the backseat of the car, those long teenage limbs somehow fitting in beside and around and with Danny.

Danny doesn’t even know how Steph does this, but every time (every damn time) that Danny feels like she has a handle on the situation, Steph goes and flips it on its’ head. That look is making her mouth incredibly dry and suddenly her back is on all that new upholstery and from where she’s lying, her boobs are making a valiant run upwards.

“What the hell!?” Danny demands, practically howling out the words. “You do not just tumble someone into the backseat of a car unless you _ask first_!” She wriggles her hips to try and get comfortable, but somehow that just gets her thigh in between Steph’s and hey, when you’re in Rome...

She knows it won’t be much, but she slides her bare knee slowly up the inside of Steph’s jean-clad legs. Those damn skinny jeans hug her so tightly that sometimes Danny thinks it’s a trick of the eye or paint because it can’t possibly be denim. It’s a travesty and one that Danny plans on ending. She bites her lower lip determinedly and fumbles her hands lower to start peeling those painted jeans off of Steph, seeing as she has to apparently claw for any modicum of control when it comes to her best friend.

“When did you decide you were going to spring this on me, huh?” Danny demands.

“Oh, you know,” Steph replies, sounding absolutely zen. “When we were seven or right.”

“When we were...” Danny sputters, shaking her hair and letting more strands loose from the top knot her hair is in. “What is wrong with you? You couldn’t have said something! You had to keep stealing my sweater vests and dragging me along for your adventures that got me so scraped up, Ma thought I was getting abus...”

She’s swiftly shut up when Steph kisses her with an impatience that speaks of her having wanted to do this for a long, long time.

Danny goes from pissed to progressively more subdued by the way Steph is exploring Danny’s mouth with her tongue, stopping occasionally to drop gentle kisses to Danny’s neck right where she likes it, and then it’s back to those intense and explorative and perfect kisses.

Eventually, Danny’s little more than a whimpering echo of herself.

“Still complaining?” Steph asks smugly, arching her brow upwards as she peels off her t-shirt and reminds Danny that yes, Steph’s habit of not wearing a bra is still alive and well to this day (thank god).

Danny shakes her head ‘no’ and lets out the breath she’s been holding in.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” she ekes out quietly, surrendering to every base instinct she’s been wanting to let out for so very long. She lets her hands roam over every inch of Steph’s skin and kisses her like she can burn the imprint of her lips against Steph’s, and she treasures and hoards every moaned ‘Danny’ that Steph lets out.

When this is all done, though, they’re having a Talk (capital T, Danny means it), about proper communication when you’re not masquerading as a cavewoman.

Later, though. They can do that later.


End file.
